


Space is Big

by fairdeath



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Character Study, Friendship, Gender Dysphoria, Non-binary character, Other, Trans Character, Trans Lance (Voltron), Trans Male Character, Trans Pidge | Katie Holt, binding, supportive space family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 16:36:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11787135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairdeath/pseuds/fairdeath
Summary: Space is.... big. In an intergalactic war, few sentient life forms have time for social graces such a gender. That doesn't mean Pidge doesn't, despite what their role as a paladin would have them believe. But life doesn’t always go as you plan it, and now Pidge is in the middle of space, floating in a castle-spaceship so technologically advanced, it might as well be powered by magic, with all the breathing room in the world… and no binder, no sports bra, no chest compression.Their chest aches with it.





	Space is Big

**Author's Note:**

> Pidge is non-binary, and binderless in space. Lance does what he can to help. (There is probably less lance than you anticipate. This is mostly focused on how dysphoria and binding would work as Voltron travels across the universe.)  
> I suppose you could read this as romantic? it's on that border of platonic/romantic I suppose.

Space is… big. Space is infinite galaxies full of infinite planets containing immeasurable numbers of sentient lifeforms, containing an umpteenth number of impossibly different and similar self-aware species with their own languages, cultures, societal norms, morals, values beliefs, overlapping, one and the same, not a trait similar bar their lack of similarities.

So, space is big. Space is so big, in fact, some life forms have no concept of sex, let alone gender, and some have surpassed sex and gender and the spectrums of self-expressionism.  Some refer to the paladins that protect their homes as _Voltron_ and nothing more, no pronouns, no further titles. Some refer to Shiro as _leader_ , some refer to Keith as _saviour_ , some refer to Lance as _humorous_. It’s all up to interpretation.

Some refer to Pidge as _paladin_ , _forest guardian_ , or _small one_. Some refer to Pidge as _him_ , and some refer to Pidge as _her_. Some don’t refer to Pidge at all.

Culture is like space. It’s big. Full of infinite possibilities, stories that warp societal morals and beliefs. Some sentient, self-aware life forms have little time for social graces such as these. Voltron is the saviour of the universe, and they are seeking the saviour’s help.

Gender is a human belief – a cultural mechanism designed to ease the process of maintaining life on Earth imprinted on us by our predecessors. Pidge has never, and most likely will never, truly fit into the boxes delegated by their forefathers for gender. Pidge is not a woman; they not fit any definition of the word, nor do they fit any definition of the word ‘man’. Pidge does not enjoy the waxy taste of lipstick, nor taste of sports-grade mouth guards.

When the blue lion thrust them across the known, and unknown, universe, it was evidently not planned. Pidge did not plan to find (and rescue) Shiro, did not plan to escape off-base to a tiny hut in the middle of the desert, did not plan to find the cat version of a transformer and be shot across light years in milliseconds. Pidge _did_ plan to sit alone on a roof with nothing but distant, static-filled radio chatter. No binder, no sports bra, no chest compression, just breathing room.

But life doesn’t always go as you plan it, and now Pidge is in the middle of space, floating in a castle/space ship so technologically advanced, it might as well be powered by magic, with all the breathing room in the world… and no binder, no sports bra, no chest compression.

Pidge’s chest hurts. It’s different than it used to be, though. Before, with binding, it was a heavy weight, pushing down on breast tissue, on lungs. Now, without it, Pidge still feels that same heavy weight, though now it sits beneath their chest, sits behind their ribcage, where their heart beats frantically, struggling to fight against it. The heaviness is akin to a forceful push, trying to break out of their chest. It’s like someone jumped out from behind a door somewhere and fight or flight is in full-force. Except instead of someone jumping out at them, it’s their breast tissue and too-wide hips, the lack of space between their thighs.

The green lion shares a lot of Pidge’s mentality. It is not entirely the same since the lions are more of an artificial intelligence whose personalities and thoughts are a culmination of their previous experiences though hundreds of thousands of years of existence, tied to a material body – although, so are most lifeforms. It is similar and also not similar, but not being completely and utterly alone is nice, despite the whole ‘a giant green transforming lion robot’ being in Pidge’s thoughts and feelings, muddled like watercolour paints.

Pidge does not desire to be a man. What would that even look like in space, where nothing except survival and allyship matters? Pidge does not desire to return to being Katie, which never really fit to begin with, cogs of the name, the identity, too far out of sync with their true self, misaligned and chipping away at pins on each turn. Katie was fourteen, fatherless, missing a best friend, nursing a broken heart and family on her shoulders. Pidge is… Pidge is simultaneously a man and a woman, strong in body and heart, but also neither, mind as strong as diamond, body and heart weak. Do not be confused – Pidge is strong, lean with dense muscle and full of adoration for the family their situation has built. However, despite this, Pidge looks in every reflective surface and sees breast tissue no matter how little others might, sees wide hips that catch on tables and corners of the internal workings of the lions, their heart gouged with jagged pieces of who Pidge wishes they could be.

Maslow’s hierarchy of needs says that human life craves base needs of shelter, water, food, and safety above all else. Maslow did not take into account gender and body dysphoria, or intergalactic war.

There’s something about having a weight on your chest metaphorically that must manifest itself physically. Or, at least, that’s how it feels. Wearing a makeshift binder beneath the paladin armour while fighting Galra drones and soldiers does not assist in alleviating the pressure constricting on Pidge’s chest. The light headedness Pidge feels, the blurring of their vision, isn’t ideal, but nor is the expanse of skin a bullet caught. You do what you must in order to survive.

Don’t misunderstand – Pidge knows exercise and exertion while binding is a bad combination, can result in malformed bones and broken ones, can cause oxygen loss from not being able to breathe. Lance had gone over every nook and cranny of his Binding 101 notebook when he had found out Pidge was using bandages in between training sessions, found a fabricator within six minutes, flattened his own worn-down binder in the scanner and printed several Pidge-sized ones. But the Galra do not stand, checking their claws and the hilts of their swords for dirt whilst Pidge struggles to remove their binder before fitting into the too-firm fitting paladin armour.

They would not usually wear their binder. Generally, Pidge experiences little dysphoria, or small enough that it is easily pushed aside for learning the Altean language or decoding every piece of technology aboard the ship, and therefore sets aside binders for particularly tough times. Pidge had felt particularly terrible, considering the cauterising abilities of their Bayard for a hair of a second, before slumping in front of their laptop, binder a constant press, a comforting presence in the face of dysphoria.

Pidge had questioned Coran early into settling into the new ‘normal.’ Do Alteans have a concept of sex? Of gender? Of these two not aligning? How do they change their body to match what it _should_ be?

The answer was down heartening, of course. Alteans are born with the ability to _shape shift_ , so no space-hormones for Pidge _or_ Lance.

Which was… That was rough. Is rough.

Surprisingly, the human body does not function as expected without a sunrise and sunset to match with. This means Pidge’s monthly misery, the slew of too many hours of mild discomfort and moderate dysphoria, become more frequent than just 'monthly'... whatever that means in space or Altean time.

But Pidge… is not alone. Is not _allowed_ to be alone. Intergalactic space war did not anticipate a trans teen (or several) being chosen by sentient robot-lions as the defenders of the universe(s). It also did not account for the unsurpassable love the other paladins feel for Pidge or the safety and comfort it provides. It did not consider Hunk’s hugs or yearning to learn and support, Lance’s understanding, two neat lines beneath his pectorals, Keith’s bone-deep need to defend those he cares for, or Shiro’s empathy, his Galra arm, cold and rigid, his own but not his own.

Pidge is not a man, nor are they a woman. Pidge is the green paladin of Voltron; strong in mind, heart, and body beyond fathomable lengths. Their body may not reflect this and the weight of it aches, pulls on their rib cage, but the universe needs them. Their fellow paladins - this family they've built - need them. So for now, the bruises lining ribs from makeshift binders, the lack of stamina, the breathlessness at the end of each fight has to stay. But so will the bags of ice Shiro rotates out for them, the warm hands of Keith on their lower stomach to combat the cramps, Lance's cracked knuckles washing their bloodied binder for them, and Hunk's bear hugs when it all becomes too much. It's not a fix, but it's a start. 

And maybe one day, when this is all over, the bruises and broken ribs and black eyes will be a distant memory. The binders will be replaced with two neat lines to match Lance's, Keith's hands still a makeshift heat pad against their abdomen. 

Bind, fight, bruise, repeat. The other paladins will be there to help you mend afterwards.

**Author's Note:**

> i dont know what you mean, of course i wasn't projecting.  
> anyway,[trans representation is important.](https://www.instagram.com/p/BXUzjOZjCxm/?taken-by=bklynbeee)  
> please let me know what you thought/if you have trans voltron headcanons please tell me them!!


End file.
